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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693314">I Swear I'm Not A Furry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarSpirit01/pseuds/StellarSpirit01'>StellarSpirit01</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rogue's Gallery One-Shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Non-Binary Edward, The Dork Squad, autistic Edward, edward ezekiel nygma reads teen girl magazines and does the quizzes on the back for fun, this is a fact</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:48:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarSpirit01/pseuds/StellarSpirit01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Edward is a bit of a prick (or maybe just autistic? or both) and Jervis is kinda baby but we still keep in mind he's a goddamn serial killer</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Crane &amp; Edward Nygma &amp; Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rogue's Gallery One-Shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Swear I'm Not A Furry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was rarely a peaceful minute in Arkham Asylum. Always, always screaming or yelling or the clanging of metal bars, or alarms blaring, or the tense, deathly quiet before a riot. Sometimes, though, very rarely, there was a soft and comfortable moment, one that made even the wildest patient release a bit of the tension in their shoulders.</p><p>This was not one of those moments.</p><p>Edward flinched at the loud slam of the break room doors as a particularly riled-up patient was sent back to his cell. They huffed, despising the distraction from their reading material of choice: a slightly worn, eight-month-old issue of Teen Vogue that they were beginning to memorize due to the depressing lack of actual books in the asylum. As they flipped through the pages for the billionth time, sinking slowly into the abyss of the aged, brown couch beneath them, a soft voice caught their attention.</p><p>"May we sit here, Edward?" Jervis asked politely in his posh British accent. "This happens to be the quietest corner of the room, and Hare and I both have things to do."</p><p>"Of course, of course," Edward said with a smile, not-so-easily escaping the hungry maw of the cushions only to collapse back into them, this time closer to the arm of the couch. "While you're here, could you help me with something?"</p><p>"Yes, dear Dormouse?" Jervis took the matching armchair on the other side of the small coffee table while Jonathan settled into the opposite end of the loveseat, book in hand; Edward wasn't surprised to see it was a copy of <em>The Masque of the Red Death</em>, a favorite of his.</p><p>With a pleased hum, Edward turned their magazine to the very last page, where a small personality quiz was nestled in the bottom left corner. "If I were an animal, what would I be?"</p><p>There was a barely-stifled laugh to their right, making them turn their head to glare at the source with a huff. "It's a legitimate question. I'd like to know your opinions of me, and also whether this damned thing can guess my favorite color."</p><p>"Sorry, Eddie," Jonathan chuckled. "I don't mean to upset, but those things are absolutely ridiculous."</p><p>"You're a cat, of course!" came an excited chirp from across the coffee table.</p><p>Edward turned to Jervis with a satisfied smile. "Thank you. At least <em>someone</em> appreciates one of the few things I can find at all entertaining in this dump. Do tell me more, Jervis."</p><p>The Hatter happily continued, "You're highly intelligent, cunning, and your tongue is as sharp as your claws. Always alert, senses acute, at the ready at a moment's notice. Not to mention very well-groomed. Oh, oh, do me and Hare next!"</p><p>The praise made Edward practically glow, smiling ear-to-ear and bouncing their legs a tiny bit. They nearly flapped their hands before remembering where they were and restraining themself.</p><p>"Of course," they said, clearing their throat and turning towards Jonathan. "I'll start with you.</p><p>You remind me of... an owl. Yes, a common comparison, I'm sure, but hear me out. You're wise and calculating and smart, indeed, but it's your eyes that make me think of a fearsome bird of prey. They're bright, precise, ever watchful. You may require glasses, doctor, but you have the sharpest vision I've ever witnessed, other than mine. Your eyes pierce through people, straight through their skin and into their hearts and souls, into their minds, to find their strengths and weaknesses in a moment's glance. You can dissect, analyze, and diagnose a man with a single look. That is both a learned and given skill, something one is born with but in order to make useful, one must nurture and practice and love. You, Jonathan Crane, have done exactly that. Eyes are the window to the soul, but windows are made of glass, and properly shaped glass can be a dangerous weapon."</p><p>There was silence following Edward's little ramble, long enough to make them start fiddling with the spine of the magazine nervously until Jonathan finally spoke up in a slightly hushed voice. "You, darlin', always have a way with words. Thank you."</p><p>Edward was about to reply when Jervis began bouncing excitedly in his seat. "Now me! What animal am I?"</p><p>"Give me a moment, Jervis," the Riddler laughed a little, waving a hand in a gesture to tell their companion to calm down a little. "You, my friend, I would have to say... you are a rat, I think."</p><p>Jervis' face began to fall, clearly not expecting an answer like that, and he curled into himself a little as Edward went on. "You're small, squeaky, and afraid of a great many things. You hide, you gnaw at things, and you obsess."</p><p>"However." Jervis' distress shifted to curiosity at the change in tone, from analyzing to something soft and almost affectionate. "You certainly use that smallness and anxiety to your advantage, don't you? Your fears drive you on rather than hold you back, and when you do opt to hide instead of facing them, it's strategic and well-planned. Furthermore, you are very much a social being, finding it quick and easy to befriend even the most stubborn soul. Your friendships are strong, and you nurture them well. You know what you are passionate about, you know what you want to do and where you belong in the world. Few can say the same."</p><p>Almost immediately, Jervis jumped to his feet, scurried around the coffee table, and stood in front of his friend with his arms outstretched with a look like he may cry at any moment. Smiling, Edward got to their feet and was immediately consumed by one of the shorter man's infamous bone-crushing hugs. They gladly hugged back, giving their friend a little squeeze before pulling away.</p><p>"Now I wish I'd said something so wonderful for you, Dormouse," Jervis huffed, wiping away a tear.</p><p>"Oh, hush, Jervis. What you said to me was just perfect, now go sit down before we get stared at."</p><p>The three of them laughed a little and settled back into their own activities. Jervis doodled Cheshires in his little notebook; Edward silently criticized the subtle sexism in their magazine; and Jonathan simply sat there and pretended to read as he mentally recounted the last several minutes. The doctor didn't change his facial expression much for anyone - even Edward didn't often see his scowl break - but occasionally... Well, the professor, ever stern and cold, just had to crack a soft smile for his closest friends from time to time. After all, Scarecrows are made of straw, not stone.</p>
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